


A Much-Needed Distraction

by Alexis_Rockford



Series: Fictober 2018: 31 Fandoms in 31 Days [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Bored Sherlock Holmes, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Fictober, Post-The Final Problem, Propositions, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Alexis_Rockford
Summary: “You’re hurting me,” she complained. “God, Sherlock, don’t you know anything? You have to be gentle with a lady.”This ficlet was written in response to the Fictober prompt for October 13, 2018: 30 days





	A Much-Needed Distraction

It had been 30 days since his last fix. 30 days, 12 hours, 19 minutes, and 37 seconds to be precise. Sherlock drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, trying frantically to escape into the refuge of his Mind Palace, but it was no use. His most recent case had just ended. Watson had gone home to put his daughter to bed. Mycroft was out of the country on some stupid diplomatic mission or other. Mrs. Hudson was on a date with a wealthy widower she had met online. There was no one to distract him from the boredom that was threatening his sobriety.

Actually, there was one person who might be available, but he was loath to bother her at this time of night. They would probably get into an argument over the phone about the lateness of the hour or the fact that he should really be in rehab instead of detoxing on his own. But he was in desperate need of a distraction. Perhaps her aggravation would be worthwhile.

She picked up after the first ring. “What is it Sherlock?”

“I need you, Molly,” he said tersely. “Right now. Come over this instant.”

He could practically hear her eyes roll on the other side of the line. “What can you possibly need me for that can’t wait til tomorrow?”

“You have to ask?” he replied in what he hoped was a low sexy voice.

Molly burst out laughing. “Come on, Sherlock. I know you said you loved me, but you were under duress at the time. It’s alright. You don’t have to feign interest in me.”

“I’m not feigning interest,” he protested. “I am in desperate need of your...er...special set of skills.”

There was an interminable silence on her end. “Oh, alright, I’ll bite. But if you are screwing with me, I swear to God…”

Half an hour later, he threw open the door and practically dragged her into the flat. “Took you long enough,” he muttered. “Did you walk all the way here?”

“You’re hurting me,” she complained, pulling away and rubbing her arm. “God, Sherlock, don’t you know anything? You have to be gentle with a lady.”

He looked at her in puzzlement for a moment. “We are talking about you, correct?”

Molly sighed. “Well, I am the only female here as far as I know.” She looked around the cluttered front room as if to ascertain that fact.

“Apart from the cadaver in the freezer, yes,” he confirmed.

Molly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this admission, so she gave a strangled sort of hiccup instead. “I might have known.”

“Well, let’s get on with it then,” he said, closing his eyes as though bracing for impact.

“Sherlock,” she began with an edge of annoyance to her voice. “What is this really about?”

His bright blue eyes snapped back open. “I’ve often wondered that myself. My DNA appears to lack the biological imperative to reproduce, and physical activity rarely gives me pleasure. But I thought I would have a bash at it...for science.”

Her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you using again?”

He snorted derisively. “I wish.”

Understanding dawned on her face. “You’re having withdrawals then?”

His glare seemed to say “of-course-not-why-would-you-think-that,” but his trembling hands and sweaty brow told a different story.

She gently reached out and touched him on the arm. “Why didn’t you say so, you plum?”

“I never willingly admit to weakness, Molly. You know that. And I-I was doing so well. I pulled through the last few weeks with flying colours, but tonight I just....I need a fix so badly.”

“Post-acute withdrawals can be nearly as bad as the first couple weeks,” she said soothingly. “It’s perfectly normal. It just proves that you really are human despite all evidence to the contrary.”

Sherlock harrumphed. “Did you really think that speech would make me feel better?”

She looked affronted, but bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. “Irritability is a major symptom of this phase, so I’m going to let that one slide.”

“Molly, I’m going mental here,” he whined. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

She thought for a moment, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, we could have sex if that’s really what you want…or....”

“Or?” he repeated eagerly.

“Or we could go down to the morgue and see if we can’t figure out how a seventy-three-year-old man who hadn’t left his flat in seven months contracted sleeping sickness.”

“Oh, God, yes!” he exclaimed, grabbing his coat and scarf. “Molly, what would I do without you?”

She repressed a triumphant grin. “Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out.”


End file.
